Chapter 19 No.19

Nearly a thousand feet above the fertile valley of the Youle, stretched a waste of moorland. Here all the trees were gnarled and dwarfed above the patches of rust-coloured bracken; save only the delicate silver birch, which swayed and yielded to the wind.

Great boulders were scattered among the thorn bushes, and over their rough and glistening b

            
            

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